


Smile

by justsomebucky



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheesy, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 09:12:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16302323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsomebucky/pseuds/justsomebucky
Summary: All you want is the man next door.





	Smile

**Author's Note:**

> for @redgillan's Steve Rogers’ 100th Birthday Celebration!

It was inevitable, really.

Whenever you looked into the eyes of someone you really, _really_ liked, you always felt an uncomfortable tug in your chest, the kind that makes your lungs feel tight and your heart feel like it’s about to bounce right out of your body. Every single time, that feeling made you want to simultaneously act on your impulses yet run far, far away from the situation.

Most of the time you’d gone with the latter option without actually running for it. 

You would sort of just…clam up. You’d shrug it off like it didn’t matter, like they weren’t meant for you anyway. You’d pretend not to notice the next time your crush smiled at someone else, and you would definitely, absolutely force yourself to think of anyone but them. It was a self-defense mechanism at the root of it.  

And then you’d carry on as they slipped through your fingers, another potential connection wasted because of your inaction.

Fucking _crushes_ , right? They are so brutal.

This time, though… _ugh._

You tried not to think about him, but he was always around.

Steven Grant Rogers, your neighbor for the last year or so and an all-around great guy, had been plaguing both your daytime thoughts and your nightly dreams for a few months now. It wasn’t his fault. No, he was just being his same wonderful self every day.

And it wasn’t even like you had any warning. The stupid little crush of yours hit you out of the blue.

It wasn’t the way he mowed his lawn (shirtless! _illegal_!) and then offered to take care of yours too (because it was hot out and he didn’t want you to get heatstroke!), though both were perfectly acceptable reasons to develop a crush. It wasn’t the million other little considerate things he’d done over the last year since he moved next door.

No, it was much a much more subtle moment.

One painfully ordinary Saturday morning as you trudged to the mailbox, Steve rushed out of his house and toward his car parked along the curb. He was disheveled at best, with his shirt only halfway buttoned and his phone and keys balanced precariously in one hand. He shut the front door and raced down the steps, clearly running late for something.

The minute he saw you, though, he came to a halt and beamed at you.  

That smile was like a punch right to the heart.

He’d _stopped_ just to _smile_ at you!

So of course you had awkwardly waved and said good morning and wondered if your face still showed your sleepiness. If it did, Steve didn’t seem to care, because his million-dollar smile was still in full force by the time you headed back into your place and he finally went to his car.

Since then it’d been crush hell, torture city, pining central…what had caused such a brilliant smile to be directed at you? He’d always been polite but that was something else, something more…

Surely you hadn’t imagined it?

After that, you became hyper aware of him and his presence next door. You tried to be casual on the outside even if you were freaking the fuck out on the inside, if only to save face.

If he noticed anything he didn’t make it obvious. He just kept on being Steven Grant Rogers, neighbor extraordinaire, considerate to the very core and _oh-so-handsome_.

You were lucky in that respect; Steve really was the perfect neighbor. He was thoughtful and quiet and you never saw anyone showing up at odd hours. He’d never been one for crazy parties or loud music or anything.

Not that you were paying attention.

Okay, so maybe you were…just a little.

* * *

 

It took about two weeks after the mailbox incident before you had another ‘moment’ with Steve. You’d been sitting on your porch reading a book when he arrived home from wherever he’d spent the day.

He greeted you with another smile, the kind that made his whole face light up like he was really happy to see you. It was the same one he’d graced you with two weeks prior, when you first got heart-punched by him. Then, after another awkward hello from you, he’d gone inside his house and shut the door. 

You sat there afterwards with unfocused eyes staring at the pages in front of you.

Would that have gone differently if you’d spoken up? Maybe the two of you could have a real conversation, get to know each other better. Would there be a way to invite him in without seeming like a total weirdo?

Maybe you should have asked him to come over and watch a movie. Maybe you could have asked if he had any book recommendations, or maybe said a simple ‘how’s it going?’

You were too distracted by your own self-deprecating thoughts to hear your neighbor’s front door open and shut. 

You didn’t hear footsteps as he made his way across a swath of his lawn and then yours to your porch, where he found you still curled in the same position as before, still staring at nothing at all.

It wasn’t until Steve cleared his throat that you glanced up, eyes meeting his for the second time that evening. That tight discomfort unfurled in your chest again, but you forced a polite smile to your face.

“Hey again.”

“Hey,” he greeted, suddenly looking nervous himself. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the road before meeting your gaze again, but the crease between his brows remained in place.

Uh oh. Had he noticed the change in you these last two weeks? Did he see the lingering looks? Did he notice how flustered you’d become around him? Was he here to let you down gently?

“Something wrong?” you asked, closing your book and turning to give him your full attention.

“No,” Steve replied quickly, shaking his head once, then again. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just…”

You raised an eyebrow, patiently waiting for him to get to the point so you could go shriek into a couch cushion or do something, _anything_ to alleviate the stupid crushing pain in your chest.

The corner of his mouth lifted as his nervous look changed to one of determination. “I just…wanted to see if you maybe wanted to come over for dinner tonight?”

_Ohmygod._

You told him yes. Of _course_ you said yes. You didn’t even hesitate.

Steve’s eyes lit up the second you agreed to dinner, and you watched as that beautiful smile bloomed across his features again. Maybe you weren’t the only one going home alone every night and pining away for the person next door. Maybe that brilliant smile of his really was reserved just for you.

Hope and excitement replaced any distress you’d been feeling and you couldn’t hold back your own smile. There was no way in hell you were gonna run from this beautiful, wonderful man.

You hoped that someday soon Steve Rogers would realize that your brightest smile was reserved just for him.


End file.
